


Over and Over (amnesia, on ice)

by anonymousorly



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Cowgirl Position, Dressing Room Sex, Jingle Bell Ball, Lap Sex, M/M, Multi, Niall rides Zayn, Post-One Direction, Smut, Solo Artist Niall, Solo Artist Zayn, Song Lyrics, Songfic, dRuNk by Zayn, dRuNk is about One Direction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-11
Updated: 2016-11-11
Packaged: 2018-08-29 02:21:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8471857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymousorly/pseuds/anonymousorly
Summary: Niall watches Zayn perform "dRuNk" and realizes it's about One Direction, so songfic and sex happens.[Request: Ziall perform their new singles – Zayn "dRuNk" & Niall "This Town" – at an event, they meet up backstage, something ensues]





	

Zayn can understand why the event organizers arranged the Jingle Bell Ball performance lineup the way they did, but that doesn’t mean he has to be thrilled about it. He understands how it’ll look in the program, two listings apart in the table of contents below _Day One_ and a sentence on both pages mentioning their first solo appearance at the annual festival and since One Direction. He understands the generating of buzz, talk, and anticipation created by Capital FM. Just because he understands doesn’t mean he approves.

Niall walks down the hall backstage and passes a closed door with a piece of paper reading _ZAYN_. The four letters instigate emotions, thoughts, and memories he’s been suppressing for nearly two years. He’s about to perform his first act as a solo artist and doesn’t need added nerves right now.

Zayn watches Niall’s set from the monitor in his dressing room, padded stool close to the screen for the best visual and clearest sound. The first song is one he’s never heard before; pop with a hint of folk and bluegrass behind upbeat vocals lyrically about time spent before time apart. It seems romantic but Zayn knows better – knows Niall better – to comprehend the subtlety regarding the band in each word. It’s beautifully composed and Niall’s stage presence with an acoustic guitar does it justice. His throat tightens at the conclusion, a soft long note and loud arena eruption.

Niall glows and shares the title with pride and accomplishment. He’s met with screams and cheers, pink cheeks high from a wide smile that Zayn sincerely missed seeing on a daily basis.

Niall covers “Champagne Supernova” before performing another new song and finally “This Town,” Zayn’s eyes fixated on the screen and biting his bottom lip. He has an impulse to act out, demonstrate a gesture to Niall because...well, because they had been close friends for nearly five years before dividing for nearly two. He’s the one who walked away and he knows he’ll have to be the one who walks back, _if_ he decides to.

Niall bows for the final time and waves while exiting the stage, a sound technician taking his guitar before arms engulf him. The small group consists of his manager, assistant, producer, and co-songwriter swarming generic compliments and overused praises that mean little to him anymore but receive gratuity from the blonde nonetheless. They follow one step behind as he heads back to the dressing room, shaking hands extended to him and stopping to embrace acquaintances and fellow colleagues. The support feels more genuine because they aren’t getting paid to work for him.

Standing in the corridor outside his assigned room, his manager and assistant remind him of tomorrow’s schedule and his producer informs him of what they’ll work on at the week’s end. He gives his confirmation and releases a quiet, long sigh once he pushes the door open. When he sees Zayn sitting in front of the vanity, he gasps quickly and forgets everything he was just told as his management rushes off.

In dark attire and leather boots with silver jewelry accents, Zayn is nervous as hell. Fingers twitching and palms sweating, he sort of planned what to say but every crafted sentence dissolves instantly. The blue-green eyes intimidate him, slightly narrowed with fiery emotion inside. He can honestly say that he’s never seen Niall like this before.

Inhaling slowly and deeply, Zayn scrambles for his brain to say something but it has to be the _right_ something.

“Why’re ya here?” Niall blurts out, words tripping one after another and breaking the silence.

Zayn stutters and clears his throat, face hot in embarrassment and neck itchy from the discomfort. “Um. I, uh...your p-performance.”

Niall remains frozen with his hand around the doorknob.

“You were...a-absolutely brilliant, Niall.”

The way his name sounds makes Niall’s heart beat faster and heavier. He truthfully can’t tell if what he’s feeling is flattery or fury until he consciously stops grinding his teeth.

“I.” Zayn lowers his chin and blinks at his clasped hands. “I...dunno, I wanted t-to tell you because I had a panic attack following my first few solo sets...so.”

Annoyed, Niall huffs. “That’s the only reason you’re here?”

“One of ‘em.” Zayn glances up with a small crooked smile and Niall softens inadvertently, shoulders lowering and face relaxing. “Also in congratulations. And making sure you’re okay. And...hoping you’ll...you’ll stay so we can...talk, dunno, after my set.”

For Niall, everything comes to a standstill and the world goes silent. His thoughts rotate: he never expected to speak to Zayn, let alone speak to him today, this is his chance to tell him the harsh words he perfectly orchestrated months ago, he can’t believe Zayn is there, _right there_ , skinny and paler than ever, the youth on his handsome face shaved slightly by stress and expectations.

Stunned and anxious, Niall licks his dry lips but his voice still cracks on the one-word response. “Yeah.”

Zayn slowly walks passed Niall, thin enough to make it between him and the doorframe without touching either. Despite no physical contact, their dense energy clashes somewhat violently and eyes dart toward one another before he refocuses on getting back to his room.

Niall tries not to watch Zayn perform, telling himself he doesn’t need to and probably shouldn’t witness how much Zayn’s evolved as an artist. He knows he’ll likely get upset and extremely bitter, but conquering all rationality and probabilities is his curiosity.

Powering the television and switching to the stage camera feed, Zayn is mid-song and the very first thing Niall thinks is _oh_.

The music is electro-funk and lyrics are a breakup regretted. His voice is velvety and perfection as it always has been. He keeps his movements minimal, still not an outgoing performer or allowing himself to dance too much. It works, though, because it’s exactly who he is. He walks the stage once during the second song and stays by the microphone stand during a ballad, shy persona and powerful delivery.

The fourth song is haunting yet enchanting, a bassy rhythm and gentle words that cloud Niall’s mind. He’s not entirely sure why or how the rush of evocative poignancy tingles beneath his skin and within his throat. Flashes of the past whirl around his brain, triggered by the lyrics and melody.

* * *

We're so late nights, red eyes, amnesia, on ice The first six months as “One Direction” were mostly foggy and dazed for each of them. An inconsistent cycle of interviews, photography studios, recording sessions, van shuttles, public appearances, shoulder naps, energetic performances, cramped living arrangements, short arguments, gogogo.

Late nights, red eyes, amnesia, I need you Things became more clear and focused the afternoon Zayn’s head fell against the curve of Liam’s neck and Louis stretched across their laps while Niall and Harry tangled around one another in the back.

Right now, I can't see straight Zayn was the last to surrender his guard and give himself to the four boys. He experienced a new joy shortly afterwards, Liam’s hand on his knee suddenly calming and Harry under his arm suddenly comforting. Niall and Louis were bright bubbles when days seemed never-ending with no light at the end of the tunnel.

Intoxicated it's true, when I'm with you Niall and Zayn rushed away from a huge crowd that swarmed around them outside a mall in Berlin, fingers linked and security forceful. They made it to a large warehouse and waited for their transportation van, roaring mob blocked by thick steel. Zayn led him a little further in, away from the guards and supervision, and slowly backed him against the cold concrete wall, lips on his neck before he could form any coherency. He squeezed Zayn’s hand and kissed him as soon as he looked up. It was their first.

I'm buzzing and I feel laced Niall and Louis pulled them to the bus in a hurry a week or two later, both Liam’s hands taken in the middle of Harry and Zayn. The clueless three glanced at one another in equal bewilderment and shrugged silently as the other two boasted excitedly about what they had planned. Their schedule was complete for the day until dinner and the concert later on.

I'm coming from a different phase,  
when I'm with you Harry and Zayn had deliberated earlier about reading and napping but they could always do that the next day or the one after.

Niall led the three to the back lounge and Louis trailed after locking the door, a lame attempt since management and security had keys but a worthy effort of sending a distinct message.

Run away now,  
like we're supposed to do Niall stepped in front of Liam, who was motionless and wide-eyed, and put a hand on his cheek. Innocent yet focused, he whispered, “Will you kiss me?”

Harry and Zayn were amazed at how little time it took Liam to decide and bring their mouths together.

Take you to the back now,  
I take a shot for you Louis looked at Zayn and nodded at Harry, arms crossed and mind intent. Harry slowly turned towards him and he was the most beautiful Zayn had ever seen him.

Zayn took one of Harry’s hands in his own and kissed the side of his neck, the reaction of an exhale blowing across his ear. He felt Harry’s fingers tighten and it gave him the courage to move on, gently bumping their noses and making Harry smile as they kissed.

Wasted every night Some months later in Italy, Niall danced with Harry and Liam at a deafening nightclub. Harry got drunk the quickest but they handled his stumbling feet and waving arms well enough, until he clinched Niall’s hips and pulled him to his chest.

Gone for every song Meanwhile, Zayn and Louis slouched on a faux-leather sofa behind roped-off poles. Louis alternated a joint for them, holding it up when he thought Zayn was ready and pulling it back when he was done. They used the other's chin to shout into if they had something to say, which was seldom due to voice damage and the extreme comfort of their curled limbs.

Faded every night Niall glanced over his shoulder at Harry but different hands on his cheeks turned him forward, Liam close in front of him with wet lips and glossy eyes.

Dancing all night long Harry’s hands slid to the front of his jeans and Liam’s firmed to kiss him hard. They were still dancing but more controlled, swaying and feeling blended into the environment.

Drunk all summer, drunk all summer Zayn and Louis mostly stared at them and gazed at one another with wide pupils, sly smiles and fingertips brushing below clothes before retreating.

We've been drunk all summer Louis didn’t retreat one time though, hand sliding below Zayn’s briefs and pressing down on his ass with an eyebrow raised. He welcomed Zayn shifting onto his lap and extended out the weed-holding arm, the other bending around his neck and bringing their faces close.

Drinking and flowing and rolling “Ya feelin’ it, aren’t cha?” Louis yelled and Zayn nodded before pushing their lips together.

We're falling down Even when Harry and Liam kissed over his shoulder, Niall had seen such beauty shared between Louis and Zayn, too. He remembers thinking, if every night of his life were that, then he’d be set forever.

We're so late nights,  
red eyes, amnesia, I need you Unfortunately, he had gotten ahead of himself but wouldn’t find out for years.

Right now, I'm emotional Years filled with too many bodies crammed in one bed or bunk, late night whispers of secrets and agony, muffled laughs as the sun rose, perfect mixtures of throaty snores and breathy moans, bites and hickeys, cold hands and warm chests…

Then, Zayn drifted.

I lose control, when I'm with you Niall held the shivering, sweaty frame of Zayn in his bunk on a cool late morning. Eyebrows furrowed and jaw tense, his expression was covered among silk strands and darkness. The only thing preventing their bodies from molding perfectly was tattooed arms with fingers pulling on Niall's white shirt, legs locked and ankles hooked.

“I can't, Niall.” It sounded like one consecutive word infected with poison to damage whoever heard. “I-I can't. Okay? I.”

I hope I haven't said too much Niall was strong because he had to be. He battled every impulse to break, release tears, shout regrets, and defy all that he knew to be right. Squeezing more, he could literally feel Zayn crumble but had to keep most of him together. He had to.

“I can't,” Zayn whispered again and buried his moist cheeks in the white shirt. “Niall.”

Guess I always push my luck,  
when I'm with you Niall hummed and shushed, mixing with Zayn's cries and mumbles. In hindsight, it was naive for Niall to assume cuddles and kisses would be enough, but it was an assumption that protected him from an alternative he couldn't yet comprehend.

“Don't be mad.”

Run away now,  
like we're supposed to do Zayn pulled himself further and pushed them more away until the only clear solution was for him to go.

He seemed half present with no interest, robotically doing what had once been natural but now was painful. None of them yet (not even Zayn) understood it but they tried, discovering soon that the correct answer was “space” after it was too late.

Take you to the back now,  
I take a shot for you He didn’t crack a smile from the time they left the stage to the time they woke up the next morning in a new city. He didn’t engage during shows – pacing a straight line, stiff with Louis’ arm around his waist, shoulders turned from Liam’s goofy dance moves, sleeve yanked from Harry’s loose grip, face unresponsive from Niall’s singing directed at him...

Wasted every night During Zayn's last concert, Liam tried the hardest because he was positioned next to him for a majority of the show, but ineffective except for three forced smiles. He paid particular attention from afar though Zayn didn't notice, too mesmerized by the audience and lights.

Gone for every song Whereas Liam occasionally performed for his bandmates, Harry always performed for the arena and fans. It was natural for him to lose himself in the songs and give his all for an hour and a half. In contrast, Zayn viewed the crowd as a performance for him to watch; he wasn't sure when or if he'd get to see them again.

Harry was fairly certain he'd get over-emotional if he looked at the pain so evident on Zayn's face.

Faded every night Louis gave him the cold shoulder all night, walking passed without a slightest glance and turning his back if Zayn got too close. A third of the way through and they finally interacted, Louis handing him a water bottle and remarking flatly that he was doing a stellar job.

Dancing all night long Niall did everything he could without being obvious. He danced at Zayn, played for him, sang to him, but his dark eyes remained unchanged – unenthusiastic, defensive, unwilling, rejected. He kept trying though – he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he didn’t. His effort would be proven wasted but he tried.

Drunk all summer, drunk all summer The night after his final performance with them, Zayn sobbed for hours. His eyes stared off and he bit the tip of his thumb, not acknowledging any of the looks or questions begging for his attention.

We've been drunk all summer He couldn’t recall who was where or what was said, too consumed by his mind and fear. He couldn’t hear the soothing words or feel the soft rubs or see the love pouring for him.

Drinking and flowing and rolling Liam and Louis arranged plans for his departure and Harry and Niall took turns packing some belongings and cuddling the numb shell.

As they stood outside when it was time for him to leave, he cried silently and returned none of their embraces, blinking absently in the distance over their shoulders and feeling vaguely how they trembled or shivered.

We're falling down Niall opened the limo door but he didn’t move. Louis cursed, “Dammit Zayn,” and practically shoved him into the backseat.

We're so late nights,  
red eyes, amnesia, on ice That’s the only thing Zayn remembers: Liam taking deep breaths, Harry under his arm with pink eyes and lips, Niall’s terrified expression, and Louis’ wavering smile as he shut the door.

Late nights, red eyes, amnesia, I need you

* * *

Zayn barely has the door cracked open before nodding at his entourage, indicating privacy and they disperse.

Niall’s sitting on the padded stool and running a hand through his hair almost compulsively. His head snaps up when the lock clicks shut, blinking fast and asking in a panicked tone, “What was that?”

Zayn already knows; spend five years with someone and many questions become unnecessary. “It...me- _us_.”

Niall had a hunch but wanted to hear it aloud. Now clarified, he’s not sure what’s next and Zayn seems like a stranger still despite his performance showing similarities that prove otherwise. That music, though, would’ve never been done by One Direction. That music sounded as if One Direction was never a part of Zayn, until Niall heard “dRuNk.”

It’s unsettling.

Zayn takes a small step forward and rubs his lips together for a moment, eyes locked on Niall. He stammers thoughtlessly in attempt of a completed sentence, “It’s… We were- _are_ … You and…”

The inconsistency frustrates and irritates Niall, brain already struggling with the situation and worsened by Zayn’s nonsense babbling. A hot burst in his chest makes him rush at Zayn and kiss him. It’s shockingly no different than any they’ve shared before: Zayn’s first inhale through his nose shaky and breathing adjusted thereafter, left palm on Niall’s cheek and Niall’s right on his hip, free hands connecting just before their tongues.

Zayn guides Niall until he’s pressed against the door, just like the first time and multiple times after that. Their mouths part enough for him to whisper, “Guess I’ll always push my luck,” and it should be corny and cliché but the desperation and sincerity of the confession is heartfelt.

Niall wants to always be the bet that Zayn takes because it means he’ll never truly be done or gone. It isn't about the kiss; it's about the taste, closeness, feeling of the other’s face and body, knowing the other is with him when neither thought he’d ever do so again.

Niall pushes his face into the crook of Zayn’s neck and breathes in his scent, bodies curving instinctively to one another. Each of the four had reacted differently to Zayn’s departure: Louis was angry and betrayed, Liam was sad but hid behind anger, Harry was sad and confused, and Niall was empty and confused. They all loved each other equally and losing Zayn meant losing a part of themselves.

For Niall, though, that connection they formed – Zayn protective and he tranquil – is one he never imagined would disappear. When it did, he was empty and lost. It was supposed to be forever but one day it was gone. How can one react to that without losing their sanity?

Zayn clenches the bottom of Niall’s shirt and sighs into his hair. “Niall, I-I can understand...if-if–”

“Shuddup.”

The couch has probably been used a thousand times but it appears clean enough so neither care to think twice. Once undressed, Zayn’s ass barely touches the cushion before Niall is on his lap, shaky knees trapping his hips and fingers grabbing his shoulders.

Even as their cocks brush together, Zayn knows Niall’s trembling isn’t from anticipation or lust but uncertainty. Niall looks identical to the day he left: panic; pure anxiety and panic. He understands better how Niall felt that day and feels now – how the sun of his life feels _this_ heartbroken.

He runs his hands through Niall’s hair and pulls him closer, kissing him hard again. Niall and the other three deserve only the best. With Niall in front of him, he wants to return the security and confidence that his departure snatched away. He wants to replace panic, anxiety, and heartbreak with assurance and promise. He wants Niall to forget everything except his name for a couple moments.

Niall whimpers and moves his tongue as fast as Zayn’s. He lifts himself and Zayn circles the tip of his cock around the wet, creased entrance before pulling him down suddenly. He cries out, surprised at the fast motion and instant fill inside of him.

His hips circle and the stretch is slow, a hot jolt crawling from his navel to his head in a static current. He forces his eyes to stay open and connected with Zayn’s, many possible reasons but none conclusive – he missed Zayn’s face; wanted to show what he’d been lacking; hoped some part of him wasn’t enjoying this completely.

Zayn’s strong stare and the electricity in his veins provokes a moan deep from Niall’s throat, pleased at how Zayn swallows hard and gapes at him. He’s adjusted but keeps rolling his hips, arousal heating and senses fogging with every tilt and brush. His vision becomes fuzzy but not so much to lose the two hazelnut browns and sharp jawline, unaware of his quivering shins and sighs.

Zayn breathes out, “Niall,” without pulling too far away.

“No.” Niall’s hips sit frozen momentarily. “Don’t. Just...just let me…”

Even if Zayn had spoken anyway, Niall wouldn’t have heard because all focus and energy is directed on Zayn’s cock once his back straightens. He slides down and rocks forward, then arches backward and rises slowly. He notes what angles are particularly good for him and which make Zayn clutch his hair tighter, using his thighs to sink and arms to lift.

The intentions of punishment for Zayn are abandoned in no time, replaced with his urge to just ride him as hard as he can. Every thrust releases frustration, anger, betrayal, everything Zayn’s caused any of them to endure. The only alternative, he figures, would’ve been a brawl likely won by Zayn and leaving him more pissed.

He leans easily as Zayn kisses him, momentum faltering and eyelids falling. He wonders if they can be heard from the hallway, bassy vocals and skin slaps not quiet or rare by any means, but any concern vanishes because he’s fucking Zayn like they used to.

Zayn grabs Niall’s cock gently and entices a loud moan before his wrist even moves. Niall’s head tilts back to expose his whole neck and Zayn sucks an easy hickey below his ear, hips pushing up as Niall lowers.

Niall gasps, “Zayn,” and loosens unhinged for the first time in nearly two years.

He bounces harder and his body burns, reaching for stable leverage by grasping the back of the couch as Zayn thrusts into him. He’s oblivious to everything except the physical contact with Zayn – teeth grazing his collarbone, then tugging his nipples, sweat dripping down his back, smooth pulling around his cock, cushions indenting his kneecaps.

Zayn watches, captivated by his straining neck and heaving chest. He didn’t forget how beautiful Niall looks getting wrecked and losing his mind, the reminder on top of him restoring faded details in the corners of his memory. He didn’t forget how Niall grows louder as he approaches orgasm, typically soft noises until the very end.

His hips and wrist do all the work when Niall stills and hovers just above him, pressure on his arms to hold himself in a way that’s easy for Zayn to fuck up into him. The desperate cries and moans gradually reach their peak and Zayn’s stomach is covered in Niall’s semen, but he knows he has to finish quick before Niall’s body gives out and he’s left with his fingers.

His nails dig into Niall’s hips and keeps him in place, murmurs, “Almost,” as he thrusts faster. Niall chokes back a scream and that’s all it takes before he comes, mouthing at his shoulder and panting loudly.

Niall drops forward and Zayn’s quick to wrap his arms around the exhausted weight. Foreheads together and light air bursts from their lips, everything is familiar and comfortable yet a subtle sting taunts through enough for the most recent history to not be ignored.

“Love, please.” Zayn speaks evenly and Niall shivers. “Please, find a way to...to forgive me, love, please. Not now, not right away– I know, love, I’ll wait.”

Niall doesn’t cry but his eyes glisten with tears, a thick coating that shimmers his blue irises and rests on the edge of dripping. The plea is both magic to his ears and destruction to his heart. Of course they want Zayn back but doing so opens the vulnerability of him leaving again. Was the risk worth the reward? Was the risk of Zayn possibly running again and reliving the past two years worth the reward of him possibly staying and making everything whole again?

The decision isn’t solely on Niall, but the response to Zayn on behalf of the group is. “Over and over, the only truth.”

Zayn puts the pieces together instantly and is finally convinced when Niall kisses him back.


End file.
